


Flaws

by AdurnaSkulblaka



Series: You [2]
Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-22
Updated: 2013-09-22
Packaged: 2017-12-27 08:45:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/976785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdurnaSkulblaka/pseuds/AdurnaSkulblaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(There's a hole in my soul<br/>I can't fill it, I can't fill it<br/>There's a hole in my soul<br/>Can you fill it? Can you fill it?)</p><p>Jimmy and Castiel learn from each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flaws

The first time Castiel tries to talk to you, the only thing you register is pain. He’ll explain to you later that it was because his true voice was translated in your human mind as a shrill, high pitched squeal, but to him and any other angel, it’s the typical manner of speaking, which he also describes to you.  


_‘We do not communicate with words. As we are merely waves of intent, our thoughts are the same; we send them towards our siblings, and they interpret them as the information that we sent. I was under the impression that you would be able to hear my true voice, but I was wrong. I apologise.’_  


In all honesty, it’s a bit beyond you, but you vaguely understand. It seemed to faintly amuse Castiel at the time, anyway.  


But you’re getting off track.  


Castiel _hurt_ you, but you forgive him. He made an honest mistake.  


You never even asked for him to come to you. You’ve been a loyal believer, of course, but you didn’t dream for a second that you might be fortunate enough to meet an angel, not while you were alive. By some miracle, you’ve been chosen, and you’re not about to give that up now.

* * *

The second time he tries it, it’s better. It doesn’t hurt. There’s still a high whining sound coming from your kitchen’s radio, but there’s a faint whisper beneath it. It’s difficult to explain, even to yourself; there aren’t words, but somehow you can _hear_ them.  


Castiel asks you for an act of faith. He asks you to stick your hand in the boiling water on the cooker that’s waiting for the vegetables you were cutting. You hesitate to start with – despite the fact that you believe this really is an angel, you know, deep down, that it’s madness to boil your arm. Instead of plunging your hand into the bubbling water, you test it with your fingertip.  


Amazingly, it’s fine. You let the water level creep up your finger until it’s submerged, and when that doesn’t burn you, your entire hand disappears, and then your wrist, and finally part of your forearm.  


Your chest bubbles up with joy. Angels exist; God must exist, too; you _knew_ you were right with your faith all along. You knew, and this is conclusive proof. Is this your reward for blindly believing, not so much as a miracle of your own to show for it? Is this the miracle that’s meant to reassure you?  


It does. You feel calm. It feels natural to listen to this Castiel. Strangely, it even feels like you’ve known him for a long time, like he’s an old friend.  


You don’t realise how much time has passed until Amelia comes home. You hear the door shut, but you want to share this experience with her. You want her to feel the happiness that you do.  


Her reaction shatters that thought.  


“What the hell are you doing?” she gasps upon entering the kitchen. The bags in her arms, full of groceries, tumble to the floor, probably bruising any fruit and vegetables in them.  


You raise your free arm as she starts forward, a small smile on your lips. “It’s okay, I’m okay,” you say hurriedly.  


It’s clear that Amelia doesn’t believe you. She trembles slightly, but stops in her tracks before she reaches your outstretched hand, shock and worry written over her features. “Jimmy,” she warns.  


“Look.” You tilt your head towards your arm as you pull it out. There are no bright red burns, no peeling skin. Your arm is just the same pale pink that it always is. You grab the nearest towel to dry it off, admiring the show of Castiel’s power.  


“What’s wrong with you?” Amelia whispers.  


This makes your resolve flicker, because she sounds _scared_. Why does she sound scared? You’re fine.  


“Nothing’s wrong.” You shake your head, putting your arm on display again. “He asked me to do it.”  


This only serves to make the situation worse, apparently. “Who asked you to do it?” Amelia asks – more like demands, really.  


“Castiel.”

* * *

It gets worse. Your faith in Castiel grows – he never fails you, he’s always there, he’s ever present as a comforting friend – while Amelia’s belief in you starts to wane. It’s a vicious cycle; the more you learn about what Castiel wants, the less Amelia takes your word for what’s happening.  


She brings therapists into the picture, which is where you put your foot down. Castiel is real, you know it – how did your arm avoid burning if he was just in your head?  


Amelia still believes in God, she says as much. Angels, too. But her argument against you, Jimmy Novak, being able to speak with one is that you’re just a human, and not even a very significant one at that. She doesn’t use those exact words, but you know that’s what she means.  


And then she leaves the final offer on the table. You have to take the pills, or she’ll leave with Claire. She disappears upstairs, leaving you to make your decision.  


The choice is clear to you.

* * *

“So, I wanna help you,” you say to the open sky. It’s a clear night. The stars wink at you from overhead, as if they know and understand everything that’s circling in your head.  


They provide very little comfort.  


“I’m about to lose my family here if you don’t tell me how,” you continue, gesturing behind you. Inside, your wife and daughter are going about their lives, free from the influence of angels - aside from the usual, anyway. “Please, Castiel, just talk to me.”  


Surprisingly, something lights up overhead. You look up again, and there seems to be some kind of glow. It’s warm, welcoming, and the familiar murmur from your radio reaches your ears. The voice whispers secrets to you, things that can never be repeated, things that you nearly forget as soon as you hear them.  


_’Do you understand what you’re asking? What helping me would mean?’_  


“Yes, I understand.” There’s one condition, though. “Promise my family will be okay, and I’ll do it.”  


_’They will be safe. I will not allow any harm to come to them.’_  


“Then… yes.”  


The light and its warmth curls around you, through your mind, your body, even your _soul_. It’s accepting, loving. You know instinctively that it’s Castiel.  


He slots into place inside your body, spreading out into each nerve, settling in. You leave the driver’s seat and retreat to a corner of your body, which is cushioned by what can only be Castiel’s Grace. He wraps you up in the comfort he offers and promises to keep you, Amelia, and Claire safe.  


You believe him.

* * *

By the time you have met the Winchesters, you _hate_ Castiel. You still feel some affection for him, given that he was doing everything for the greater good, but that doesn’t change the fact that he _lied_.  


He couldn’t keep Amelia and Claire safe.  


Sitting on the floor of a warehouse, you think over everything that’s gone wrong in the past twenty-four hours. A demon took your beloved Amelia, made her into some twisted and wrong _thing_ , until the confrontation happened.  


And Claire? Sweet Claire? Castiel took _her_. Those eyes staring back at you now aren’t hers, not now. There’s the coolness you’ve come to associate with Castiel behind them, his intensity, not her childlike innocence. That’s gone.  


You can’t let him have her. You don’t care if it’s in the Novak bloodline, Claire is young, she has her whole life ahead of her. You don’t, not anymore. If Castiel takes Claire, you’ll die and Amelia will be alone.  


But if he takes you…  


You live – sort of. Claire and Amelia can continue their lives without you.  


“ _Just take me,_ ” you hiss, leaving Castiel no room for argument. You don’t care if it hurts, if it’s pure agony, if it’s like being strapped to a comet – _he can’t have Claire._  


There’s a pause, and then, using your daughter’s mouth, he says, “As you wish.”  


The warmth from before slides into place again, only this time there’s a note of coldness. You don’t know where that came from, nor do you want to know. As Castiel knits your broken, bleeding body back together again, you burrow yourself away, far away from the touch of his Grace.  


It’s so far that you almost wink out of existence.

* * *

You’re still faintly aware of everything as Castiel goes about his business. You catch glimpses of Heaven – where you could be, if only you’d died from the gunshot wound. You see flashes of the Winchesters now and again, but only when you’re interested enough to pay attention, and that’s mostly when Castiel’s emotions catch you off guard.  


For a while after Castiel made your body his permanent home, you kept up your hate of him. But, soon, you learned that there was a childlike innocence about him that reminds you of Claire.  


You take him under your wing. You’ve always been a forgiving man, even to those who hurt you, like Castiel. He welcomes you back and thanks you for your commentary on simple human things. While he knows some information about the human world from watching it develop, some other things are beyond him, which is where you come in.  


The part that confuses him the most is his feelings towards the Winchesters. There’s no doubt that there’s a strong connection between Castiel and Dean – even you can sense it distantly, and it’s nothing to do with you.  


He asks a question without wording it. Usually, for your benefit, he’ll put it into words you can understand, instead of thinking of it in Enochian or the pulses of thought that pass as conversation for angels. This time, though, it’s the latter, but it’s not the painful shriek like it was the first time.  


The image it paints for you is like this: one side is Dean, and the other is Sam. Both are infused with the warmth you recognise to be fondness, similar to that that you still hold for your family. However, there’s a distinction that you easily make that Castiel can’t work out.  


What Castiel feels for Dean is similar to what you felt for Amelia when you first met her.  


_’It’s love, Castiel.’  
_

_‘Love?’  
_

_‘Yes. You love them both.’_  


There’s confusion in his Grace, swirling around your little pocket. You send a flicker of warning his way, and he withdraws slightly, giving you back the space you need so dearly. You think that you’re becoming quite good with this angel communication.  


_’… It’s different, Jimmy. From Dean to Sam.’  
_

_‘That’s because there are different types of love. What you feel for Sam is platonic, while Dean-‘_  


You’re surprised when Castiel cuts across your thought, stopping it from reaching him.  


_’Thank you for your input.’_  


You reel in your tiny corner, your shock making what’s left of you spin. Castiel’s never done that before. He’s encouraged every interaction between the two of you, but as soon as you ventured in that direction-  


Ah. Of course. It makes sense.  


He’s scared to feel _that_ for Dean. It’s so typically human that you start to forgive Castiel just a little.

* * *

When you finally fade, it’s not because you or Castiel chose it. Castiel clings to you as tightly as you clamp yourself onto him. You’ve become friends again, you think; it’s a shame to cut this off now.  


But there’s nothing either of you can do. It’s your time to move on into the Garden of the Lord, as you nearly did years ago. Castiel says a prayer for you as you drift, even though you both know full well that God isn’t there to receive it.  


You wish each other luck as you go. You tell him to have faith – the word has gained new meaning for you both. Castiel’s faith is in Sam and Dean Winchester now. You tell him to believe that, one day, Dean will come around; if his love never dies, Castiel and Dean were surely meant to be.  


In return, he wishes that Amelia and Claire live long, healthy lives, but that they find you when they join you in Heaven. That thought is enough to settle you in many ways: your anger at Castiel is gone; your lingering love for your family grows stronger.  


You’re not strapped to that comet anymore. For you, it’s burned out, and there’s only peace.


End file.
